Chase MD
by airmac
Summary: Chase finds out, that House is alive.
1. Chapter 1

_My many thanks to Trinitas for editing this story and making it so much better!_

* * *

><p>Foreman looked at his desk. It had been a busy day - had he forgotten something? He considered, glanced at the clock - eleven-thirty. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. He looked up and saw a familiar figure in the doorway.<p>

Foreman took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell Chase to go to hell - or even better, to fire him! Chase's sheepish smile, offering another truce, did the trick. Foreman shook his head, accepting the apology.

"Let's go somewhere, you need to relax after a hard day," Chase said, and went out to the corridor.

"Not all of us can put our jobs on hold and sleep in until noon." Foreman began to boil again. He slammed the glass door of his office shut and took a deep breath, locking it.

"What's the use of being dean if you can't take a day off every now and then?"

"I wouldn't be dean if I subscribed to House's model of professional 'growth.' You may have lost your sense of responsibility, but _most_ of us here take patient safety seriously."

"I know you're mad at me," Chase said. "Keeping us all in line is your job. And my job is putting my patient ahead of the rules." Still maddeningly calm, he added, "Anyway, I got the diagnosis in time."

"And if you hadn't?" Foreman demanded, his voice rising.

They passed through the turnstiles, where for a second Foreman put on a mask of professional calm to say goodbye to the guard, who nodded respectfully in return. He'd worked here long enough that it wasn't the first time he'd seen Foreman and Chase argue.

"When your luck runs out and you kill a patient? Then what?" Foreman continued, when they were outside.

"It's not luck, Foreman," Chase replied, wrapping his coat tightly around himself. It was the middle of April, but the cold did not want to retreat.

"Of course not!" Foreman rolled his eyes. "I should've known you're incapable of screwing up."

"You know how diagnostics works. I don't need to explain it to you."

"Especially when it's not your ass on the line."

"It's my patient's. That comes first."

Silently they came to the bar. Foreman wondered how to get through to Chase. When they'd worked together, it'd been Foreman's job to discourage House's crazy behavior, and Chase's to go along with it. Now Chase was in charge of Diagnostics, and there was no way to rein him in. Threats to fire him would be useless - he'd just go off and surf, waiting for Foreman to call him back. Knowing that sooner or later, Foreman would _have_ to call him back.

They sat in a booth and ordered a beer.

"You're much worse than House. People hated him and were ready to sell him out any minute. But you - everyone loves you and covers up for you. You do whatever crazy procedure you want, and your girls keep their mouths shut. I don't know what you've done to them." Foreman complained.

Chase smiled, pleased.

"At least I have a chance as long as there are men on staff. Women are powerless against you." Grinning, Foreman took a sip from his glass.

"If you want to know what I'm doing, why not come and ask me?"

"Are you kidding? When was the last time you told me the truth?"

"I tell you exactly what you need to know as dean of the hospital."

"And as dean of the hospital, I need to know everything you do!"

"We treat patients, that's all."

"Don't give me that, Chase. You said yourself - I know how it works." Bureaucracy could get tiresome - as dean, there were days he missed diagnostics and the ability to ignore all red tape - but the rules existedfor a reason. Without them, there would be chaos, and people would die in the hands of doctors who did whatever they pleased.

"Cuddy loved House, so she took all his crap. I have no reason to take yours!" Foreman laughed, emptying his glass.

"Sure you do - the hospital's reputation. First you wanted to become a great doctor, and now you're a great dean. But you need me to diagnose patients you can't," Chase said without a hint of mockery.

Foreman gave him a cold stare. He had nothing to answer - it was true. It had taken him a long time to understand that he wasn't like House or Chase. He wasn't an arrogant, heartless bastard.

Still, Chase's barb had hit a soft spot, but Foreman wasn't one to give up so easily. He wanted to prove that he was better, cleverer, than the Australian. It was him House entrusted with his secret, not Chase, and the last couple of beers made him think that Chase should know it.

"He's alive," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Who's alive? The patient? I know."

"No. House is alive."

Chase stared, disbelieving. "Don't joke. We were at his funeral!"

"Wilson had only a couple of months, and House wanted to be with him. He had no choice but to fake his death."

Chase froze, beginning to scroll through all the recent events in his head, and smiled as the puzzle took shape. There'd been a body found after the explosion, burnt beyond recognition; House would've had no problem switching the dental records and going into hiding. The weight of grief lifted - he'd never received such good news. House was alive! Now he just had to find him.

It was just like House to leave him a puzzle to solve after his death. _Not real death,_ Chase corrected himself. It was a challenge, and Chase was ready to accept it. He'd worked with House nearly ten years. If that training was worth anything, if anyone could figure out where House had gone, he could.

Foreman watched as a Chase's faraway look was replaced by a satisfied smile.

"I hope you're not enough of an idiot to try hunting him down?" he asked carefully.

Only now he realized why House had told him and not Chase. He'd wanted someone to know who wouldn't think it was his business to go looking.

"Of course not," Chase said. "He obviously doesn't want to be found."

* * *

><p><em>It's a translation of the first chapter of the same name story I'm writing right now on my native language. There are four chapters posted <em>already<em>, but English version will definitely go much slower._

_If you like it, please, leave a comment, it will encourage me to translate faster. _


	2. Chapter 2

_My many thanks to StormyMonday and UchidaKarasu for helping me out and editing this chapter in English! And my deep gratitude to Koralina for the inspiration, editing, ideas, interesting discussion and passion with which she's doing it!_**  
><strong>__

* * *

><p>The next day, Chase didn't show up for work. He left a message for Foreman that he was taking an unpaid leave, and hopefully would be back, but he didn't know when. Adam received an email saying that she could consult with Chase if needed. The same message was received by Park. He made girls believe that each had an exclusive opportunity to get help from him.<p>

He began his search for Wilson first. He had tried to find him once, after House's funeral, but relatives said that Wilson had gone to one of the Chicago hospitals, and didn't want to be disturbed. Chase respected oncologist's choice and didn't push any further, though he felt himself obligated to his teacher to take care of his dying friend.

To eliminate the simplest option, where Foreman's conclusion that House was alive was wrong and Wilson was dying in the hospital without his friend, Chase made a phone call to Chicago. As he had expected, they didn't know anything about a patient named James Wilson. He didn't want to trouble the grieving relatives further, knowing that Wilson had kept them in the dark about his whereabouts. So, he had to find another way to locate Wilson, and House along with him.

The best way was to follow the money, and Wilson was not very good at covering his tracks. Chase knew a girl who worked at the department of VISA payment system. He had to listen to the usual tirade about how heartless of a bastard he was, but good sex did wonders. And very soon he received a treasured piece of paper with the latest transactions from Wilson's credit card.

"You know, I risked my career to get you this!"

"Huh," Chase answered, getting a grasp of the fine print, making a note to himself of the last location where, most likely, House made Wilson take out the maximum cash advance in the nearest big city, which was Philadelphia.

"Am I going to see you again?" the girl asked coldly, knowing what a mistake she had made. "You only come see me when you need something."

"Honey, I'm sorry!" Chase drew his attention back to the girl, and throwing the piece of paper to the side, gently hugged her. "Sure, you'll see me again! And it's not like I'm good for nothing for you as well."

He smiled and made his way under the silk underwear, kissing her hips all the way up. How he loved to mix business and pleasure!

cCc

Philadelphia was one of the oldest city's in the US, and standing there on the narrow street with small buildings surrounding him, Chase could feel the history. According to his data, the two friends had been here three months ago. Normally, nobody would have remembered two strangers after so long, but one of them was House, and that was enough.

Using tools like manipulations and lies, the ones he had mastered during his years of working for House, Chase received a description of the two men, older than the average age, on choppers, one of them carrying a cane.

After that, Chase returned to Princeton. He took out quite a lot of cash from his bank account, left behind his credit cards and car, packed up a small bag with personal belongings, and headed to one of the largest motorcycle shops located in another part of the town.

His old dream had come true; he bought a motorbike. Chase didn't understand why he had waited so long to do so.

He didn't like choppers, as they were heavy and hard to control on the road. Sport bikes he liked, of course, but they weren't designed for a long-distance travel. Eventually, he settled on the sport-cruiser since it was the best choice for his current plans, and would be useful when he returned home. Chase was surprised that he was sure he would go back home to Princeton. But even if he settled elsewhere, this kind of motorbike would come handy. He turned on the ignition, enjoying the roar of the engine.

So the chase began. Like the differential diagnosis, bit by bit he gathered available information, using his instincts and how well he knew House and his habits. Certainly, it would have been easier if he had friends in the police department, although it was unlikely that House would be stupid enough to attract their attention. On the other hand, it was House, so anything was possible. Chase smiled again, he was so happy that his former boss was alive, and he didn't care at all whether he wanted to be found or not.

Eventually, Chase was able to follow the main route of other travellers. They were moving to the west, mainly using small, narrow roads and avoiding major cities. Chase confirmed he was on the right track by visiting pharmacies along the way. He knew the approximate list of medications required for Wilson's cancer, and local pharmacists were willing to share that information for only twenty bucks.

Sometimes, of course, he would end up on the wrong track, and he had to return to the last confirmed point and start all over again.

He lost a lot of time when he reached the coast of Los Angeles. Chase was convinced that the two friends would move to the south, but he was wrong. Maybe he wanted to go south himself and enjoy the waves of the Pacific Ocean. But this trip was not about him, so he had to turn around and go back.

The trail broke in San Francisco. Climate and architecture was a bit similar to Princeton. Chase had a hunch that the friends were somewhere in the city. It was the first big city, after Philadelphia and Los Angeles, and possibly House had managed to persuade Wilson to undergo chemotherapy at last. There was also the possibility that the oncologist was too weak to go any further. In any case, Chase went to look for a pharmacy.

Chase's guess was correct – he found a pharmacy, and with it the coffee-shop which was regularly visited by a man with a cane. And now he was sitting at the far corner of the coffee-shop waiting for House to appear. The waitress said that he was coming in at the same time every morning, so Chase arrived a little earlier not to miss the moment.

Heavily leaning on his cane, House entered the coffee-shop and headed straight to the counter to place an order. He didn't notice his former employee closely watching him from under the brim of his cap. He looked a lot worse than the last time Chase had seen him. Obviously, the Australian's worst fears had come true, and Wilson was so bad that they were forced to settle down.

Chase didn't approach House, but discreetly followed him to an apartment in a five-story building. He came closer and watched through the turbid glass of the porch door, as House balanced the coffee in one hand and opened the door with the other. The apartment, as expected, was on the first floor.

Chase had done such a tremendous job, but didn't dare call out to his former boss, or knock at the door. Instead, he settled outside and watched the apartment. During the day a pizza delivery guy had come by, and towards the evening a boy with a couple of bags from the nearest diner. The windows were almost constantly covered with thick curtains, and after dark the light of the flickering TV was seen seeping through them.

The next day, Chase continued his observations and noted that the routine life of his former boss hadn't changed much. The difference was that he wasn't going to work anymore, and his one and only patient was constantly at his home. There was no medical mystery, only the terrible reality of watching someone he cared about so much fade away and being unable to help. A condition Chase knew too well.

Chase realized that his persistence led him here just in time. He'd had a slight hope to find two friends in the joyful pleasure of freedom, but instead he would join them in the most difficult moment of their lives.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm so sorry for such a long delay in updating this story, but from now on, I hope I'll do it quite regularly._

_Thank you very much everyone who took their time to review! Please stay tuned and leave a comment, thank you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_StormyMonday and UchidaKarasu thank you very much for your help at beta-reading this story in English! I appreciate it very much! And my deep gratitude to Koralina for the inspiration, editing, ideas, interesting discussion and passion with which she's doing it!_

* * *

><p>The worst part of food delivery was that House had to get up and open the door. Usually he preferred to dump this responsibility on Wilson, but now that his friend was sick, there was no one to do it. He would rather leave the door unlocked, but Wilson had confronted him about it – it wasn't safe. "Then he should get up and open the door himself," House muttered under his breath, opening the door at the same time.<p>

He didn't even look up to see who it was and went back into the room.

"Put the pizza on the counter; your money is there," he said casually to the delivery boy.

Complete silence was the answer to his words, not the rustling that usually followed.

_'The new one, again,'_ House thought irritably to himself, and turned around.

At first House thought it was just another hallucination, especially in view of yesterday's dose of morphine, which he had shared with Wilson. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, nothing had changed.

Chase smiled slightly. He could understand his former boss – the sight was quite unbelievable. And he was glad to see that for a split second the dull and tired look was replaced by pride of the effort that House had put into him. Unfortunately it didn't last long, as a wave of despair and fear of imminent loss returned.

House silently walked back into the room. Chase didn't need a special invitation, for it was enough that he didn't close the door in his face, so he went in on his own. One of the benefits of their long years of working together was that they were able to communicate without words.

Chase walked into the living room where the lights were dimmed and the curtains closed. Wilson – better to say the shadow that was left of him – was lying on the couch in front of the TV, his eyes closed and IV lines nearby.

House hadn't made it to his armchair before there was another ring at the door. However, he just sat down, taking it for granted that Chase would take the order. Now he had someone to pass this annoying obligation to. House didn't need to worry that he would be found because of Chase. He knew that his former employee was smart enough not to bring along a tail, and would be rather discreet and decent enough not to tell anyone about his whereabouts.

House didn't expect that his former employee would be looking for him either. In truth, he had not even thought about that at all, being too concerned about his friend and his health, but now he finally realised how glad he was for the stubborn devotion of the Australian. Now, with Chase by his side, he didn't need to worry about many things, such as not being able to take proper care of his best friend. And of course it was very important to have a doctor like Chase nearby, since he was an intensivist and properly certified to handle seriously ill patients. Nobody would be able to extend Wilson's life better than him.

House closed his eyes. It was the first time in the last three weeks, ever since Wilson's condition had deteriorated, that he finally allowed himself to relax. He was hit by a deep sleep almost instantly.

Chase returned to the living room after answering the door, only to find the two friends sleeping. It was a lunch time and he needed to wake Wilson up, but he didn't want to shock the already sick man with his appearance. And no way he was going to wake up House. He felt ashamed that he hadn't appeared as soon as he found his haggard looking teacher, and had waited several days to do so.

Obviously, both of them needed the help and care, so Chase didn't waste any time. He sorted out the last package of medical supplies, which still lay on the table, and then went into the kitchen. The sink was full of dirty dishes, which told him that Wilson was no longer able to care of such things, and House had never cared since he had always been perfectly fine with one clean glass and fork. Chase cleaned up the kitchen and went into the single bedroom. It was in perfect order, simply because nobody slept there. Obviously, House spent all his time in the chair by his friend's side. Chase could only imagine how uncomfortable it was on his damaged leg.

cCc

House awoke to rustling. He twitched, thinking that Wilson needed something, but it turned out that it was Chase changing the IV.

For a moment, emotions overwhelmed House. For so long, he had shouldered all the responsibility on himself, without a shadow of hope that he might share it with someone, and he never allowed himself to relax and rest. Chase had his back to him and couldn't see as the eyes of his former boss glistened with tears. He didn't need to. Chase would have the opportunity to see House's weakness when Wilson... House didn't want to think about the inevitable. He got up heavily and went to the bathroom.

Chase heard the thud of a cane and turned around, but didn't stop House, allowing him to start a conversation when he was ready. There was nothing to sit on except the couch and the armchair, so Chase brought the chair from the kitchen for himself. He sat down on it, after he'd finished cleaning.

House came back and glanced at the unwrapped pizza on the table. "Are you hungry?"

"Wouldn't mind, but...?" Chase glanced at Wilson.

"It's not for him. He's already on intravenous nutrition mostly, but sometimes he agrees to the soup from the diner."

House wanted to ask Chase how he found them, but didn't. However, Chase guessed what House was thinking and decided to satisfy his teacher's curiosity.

"Foreman blurted it out, and it wasn't easy to find you, but quite possible." A satisfied grin spread across Chase's face.

House grinned as well, imagining Foreman's reaction to the unexpected disappearance of his new head of diagnostics, but then both of them drew their attention back to the prostrate figure of Wilson.

"How bad?" Chase asked.

"He refuses to ask his colleagues for help, because in that case I'll have to disappear. So we don't have any x-rays or MRIs to know exactly how bad it is, but it's obviously not good at all. Plus, he's terrified of going into the hospital. He's afraid that if he does, they won't let him out."

"I can go with him, and then you won't need to disappear. Then I can bring him back under my own responsibility."

House nodded, agreeing with everything that Chase was saying, but then he said,"He won't agree to the treatment. It won't make him live any longer. It'll only waste away what's left of him in the hospital."

"His words or yours?" Chase looked up into the eyes of the man in front of him. He couldn't believe that House could give up so easily.

"What do you expect me to do?!" House asked desperately.

His loud voice woke Wilson, and he opened his eyes.

"What you usually do," Chase answered in a barely audible voice, and stood behind the couch to allow House the opportunity to break the news of Chase's surprise arrival to Wilson.

In the end, Wilson was not surprised. He knew that he could expect anything from House, and Chase as well, and he was happy to see him. The only thing that bothered him was that House may have called Chase because he couldn't take care of him anymore, or needed help. The oncologist couldn't help but notice that his friend was on the verge of exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. The arrival of Chase was a gift from above, and Wilson was too tired to analyse it further, so he just smiled at the young doctor. "It's about time. Glad you could make it."

"Me too. It was fun to torment Foreman, but I got bored quickly." Chase wanted to defuse the conversation a little bit.

"How is it to be the new head of diagnostics?" Wilson asked.

"Nothing new, except that now it's my arse on the line." Chase looked at House. Now he understood how hard it was for House to cover up the extraordinary activities of their department.

Wilson began to cough. Quickly but without fuss, Chase was beside his bed with a glass of water, which the oncologist gratefully accepted. Now his conscience would be clean, because he didn't have to make his limping friend take care of him. Perhaps he should have gone to the hospital when he felt worse but it was no longer important, because Chase was there. Wilson suddenly felt a rush of cold sweat at the thought that maybe Chase was not going to stay, and just found House for fun. He knew that House would not be able to take care of him alone for much longer, and more than anything, he didn't want to spend his last days in the hospital.

"How long are you going to stay with us?" Wilson asked carefully.

Unfortunately, he didn't know Chase as well as House did, so he didn't notice how much his question offended the Australian.

"As long as you need," Chase replied, knowing that now Wilson should be forgiven for many things.

Wilson exhaled with relief and closed his eyes."I'm so tired. And so tired of being tired..." He looked at his friends around him.

"Hold on just a bit, I would like to change your bed, and then you can surrender to Morpheus."

"Or morphine," House muttered.

"As you say," Chase replied, and got back to work.

He changed Wilson's bed linens, cleaned him up and finally shaved him. The oncologist had lost any hope that he would ever feel relieved of stubble, but he didn't want to ask House because his friend was not a big fan of the smooth skin on the face.

All this time House was enjoying his soap opera, sitting in a chair.

Wilson was very tired, the procedures exhausting for a sick person, but he was pleased to feel himself refreshed, so he fell asleep instantly.

"You quickly adjusted to the new rhythm. I suppose it's because your dear mother prematurely brought up such a sense of responsibility in you."

House was still House. Chase didn't answer, but silently collected the sheets to take them to the laundry the next day.

Chase made himself a tea and came back to his uncomfortable chair. "We need to order him a hospital bed."

"I told you, Wilson doesn't like hospitals."

"It's not a hospital, it's only a bed. It's impossible to care for him like this. It will be more convenient for him to adjust the bed rest if he wants to sit up. There are a lot of advantages. Besides, I'm not going to sleep in that chair. You're his friend, not me. I'm here just to help out."

_'Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned his mother'_, House thought to himself. "You can move into the bedroom."

"Don't be silly, you can't sleep on it either. I'm ordering a bed, whether you like it or not."

Chase took out his phone and began sending email inquiries to various contacts at medical supply companies.

House didn't argue. Chase was right.

* * *

><p><em>So, do you like it so far? Please let me know, what you think.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_Many, many thanks to _StormyMonday and UchidaKarasu for editing this story in English! And a lot of thanks to Karolina for helping me out and making this story so much better!__

* * *

><p>Chase's arrival brought along a lot of changes - there was a clear rhythm of patient care, and life in general, with mandatory breakfast, lunch and dinner. And then one day, when Chase returned from grocery shopping, he announced that he had a surprise for them, and wheeled a wheelchair into the living room. The two friends gave him a puzzled look.<p>

"Which one of us is it for?" House asked.

"Not for you, for sure."

At first Wilson protested. He didn't want to show his weakness by sitting in the chair while his friends would be walking, but later he was the one eagerly waiting for their walks in the park or shopping mall. So with fresh air, home-made three course meals provided every day by House, who finally had time to cook, Wilson began to feel much better, at least as well as he could in his current condition.

However, Chase's activities were not limited to taking care of Wilson. House couldn't help but notice how often Chase became lost in reading and replying to e-mails and texts on his mobile device.

"Some new, interactive porno?" House asked with a frown.

Chase just chuckled and silently went into the kitchen to the great displeasure of House. The latter had forgotten how hard it was to elicit a reaction from the Australian.

"Leave him alone," Wilson said, standing up for the younger doctor. "He's doing more than enough for us."

"I didn't ask him."

"But it doesn't mean that we don't need it. Besides, Chase knows that you're grateful for what he's doing."

"You're grateful, not me," House said with a hint of annoyance, but Wilson just shrugged.

"Unlike you, I have no problem with expressing my feelings."

"Interesting...what is he doing out there?" House just couldn't let it go.

"Did you even try to ask?"

"_That_ wouldn't be interesting."

cCc

The next day, Chase was still concerned about something and didn't let go of his phone, leaving House with no chance to get it, but eventually he had to leave it behind to take Wilson to the bathroom. House took advantage of the opportunity immediately.

He eagerly grabbed the smartphone and removed the lock. Results of the patient's analysis flashed on the screen.

"Gotcha!" House smirked to himself, and began to read.

It turned out that all the information was sent by e-mail from Park and Adams, but as it became clear from the correspondence, neither of the girls had any idea that her workmate was also consulting with their boss.

'You smart ass bastard!' House thought to himself proudly. He would have done the same in the similar circumstances. He continued reading, intrigued by the medical side of the case. He liked the approach Chase was taking, liked the way he directed his employees. House had nothing to add – he was proud of his ex-employee, and of himself for making such a great doctor. He turned off the phone, and put it back as soon as he heard Chase and Wilson returning.

By lunchtime, Chase had finally lost interest in whatever he was doing, as if he had solved the case. He relaxed, making small talk with Wilson.

And that was the best time for House to strike.

"So, was it an infection?" House asked innocently, watching for a reaction.

At first Chase didn't understand what he was talking about, but when he did, his eyes widened. "Oh, you bastard! You looked through my phone!"

"Then you shouldn't have left it behind, I suppose. Maybe you wanted me to find out." House couldn't hide his satisfied grin, but when Chase raised an eyebrow, House knew he'd been duped.

"If I was doing something wrong, you would have already rubbed my nose in it."

"That just means you still need your daddy," House replied smugly.

Chase said nothing. They both knew that this little game was more for the sake of House than for Chase's sake, but the Australian didn't want to make his former boss admit it.

"How're the girls?" House asked, changing the subject. "You're giving them a hard time, I see."

"They still have a lot to learn, especially Adams."

"So, you and her...? Still nothing?" House smirked.

Chase rolled his eyes.

"What? She's a hot girl, why not?"

"Cameron was a hot girl too and didn't mind having sex with you, but you didn't, right? I have plenty hot girls elsewhere."

There was no emotion when Chase mentioned Cameron. House was glad that Chase had put the past behind him, once and for all.

"Is there ever going to be another Mrs Chase in the future?" Wilson broke into the conversation, not sure where a discussion about Chase's ex-wife's might go.

Chase shook his head. There was nothing to say. He wasn't planning anything any time soon. He was too preoccupied with medicine. He did want to have a family and children someday, but that meant he would have to devote less time to his work, and he wasn't ready for it. The memories of a workaholic father were too fresh in his mind.

cCc

Two months went by and Wilson wasn't getting better, but most importantly, he wasn't getting worse. House, freed from his obligations to medically tend to his friend, was feeling much better as well, spending most of his time cooking for his own pleasure, or watching TV with his best friend. As for Chase, he was getting tired; the routine was killing him. He began remembering himself as a teenager taking care of his mother. He had to remind himself that Wilson hadn't made himself sick, that it wasn't his fault. But still, it didn't make Chase feel any better. More and more often, Chase had been finding himself wishing he could leave that musty, dark apartment, and not have to go for groceries or meds, but instead be able to take a walk without anything to do or care about.

He wanted to take a ride on his bike, feel the wind on his face and forget about slow walks with Wilson in the wheelchair, being on alert every minute to tend to him if anything went wrong. He wanted to just relax and forget about everything, at least for a while. But instead, he was going to the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee and get back to his duties, the ones he willingly took upon himself. Chase was afraid to analyse the situation, and why he found himself in it, knowing that he would not like the answer.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you very much everyone who reviewed, it means a lot and helps me to translate this story further :)<em><br>__

_Cookie, I'm sorry but Chase can't change anything :(, but Wilson will stay with House for a little while, next couple of chapters for sure._


	5. Chapter 5

_My many thanks to three wonderful people who's editing this story and making it so much better and giving me the pleasure of interesting discussion. So, StormyMonday, UchidaKarasu and Koralina thank you very much!_

* * *

><p>All three doctors knew that this day would come, but it still caught them off guard. Without warning, Wilson's condition began to spiral downward, and painfully so.<p>

Despite Chase and House's best efforts, nothing helped. By the evening, even House, who was still desperately waiting for a miracle, knew that this was the beginning of the end. Acceptance wasn't an option for House, so he left the small apartment. Chase was sure he should have been paying attention, but was too concerned with Wilson to think about House's antics.

The next morning, House was back. As much as he wished that something had changed, nothing had. Wilson slept in a drug-induced slumber, and in the chair next to him was...

House didn't even know what to call Chase anymore. He was no longer his disciple, he wasn't his employee, and soon his friend's position would be vacant. But House didn't want to think about that, and was doing everything he could to forget what was waiting for him, so he went to the kitchen to find another bottle to drown his feelings in.

cCc

Chase slowly opened his eyes, the events of the previous day beginning to take shape in his mind. He checked Wilson's vitals, and then went to make himself a coffee. The more alert he would be the better, because the day was unlikely to be better than yesterday or any day that would follow. Chase wasn't waiting for any assistance from House but he wasn't going to blame him for not helping either, knowing that his teacher was struggling to accept the inevitable, that he was losing his only friend.

Chase didn't react to finding House in the kitchen with a bottle of whisky in his hand. He knew the old diagnostician would accuse him of being judgemental.

In his state of inebriation, House was convinced Chase was about to berate him, as if such irresponsibility was automatically expected of him. How dare Chase condemn him, how dare anyone think they understood his feelings? He remembered Foreman's clumsy attempt to replace Wilson, as if the oncologist had already been buried. His anger replaced despair, and right in front of House was a man he could vent on.

"Didn't dear old daddy ever teach you to knock?" House started, and took another swig from his vice of choice at the moment. "Good morning to you too."

"Nothing's is good about this morning," Chase replied. House was in a bad mood and though his cruel jokes were predictable, it didn't make them any less painful. House always knew how to push his buttons.

"Still trying to ease your guilt?" The Aussie's calmness didn't stop House; it just angered him more, making him intent on forcing Chase to lose it. "You couldn't say goodbye to your daddy, or clean up his shit and vomit. Isn't that why you're here?"

Chase could barely resist the urge to punch House. 'He's hurting' he repeated to himself like a mantra, but it didn't help.

"Wilson is your perfect chance," House continued, sipping from his bottle, "and I'm here as your mommy. What a grand reunion of the Chase family!" He clapped his hands loudly, the liquid in the bottle sloshing around.

"House, stop!" Chase exclaimed threateningly. Wilson needed all his attention, and he wasn't going to be distracted by House.

"Or what?! You wouldn't hurt a loved one, especially when he's drunk and insulting you."

Chase took a few deep breaths to calm down. It wasn't House talking, but the alcohol in his system.

"Good old Chase," House said in a condescending tone. "Was your father, with god knows how many doctorate degrees, so stupid that he didn't realize leaving his son with an alcoholic mother would determine his future? You're pathetic. Until the end of your days you'll seek out people who insult, humiliate, and use you."

"House, you know I can kick your arse, but I'll do it when I please, so stop trying to piss me off. If you can't deal with pain, it's not my problem," Chase replied calmly, and took his cup of coffee and left the kitchen. He knew what House was trying to prove but the words still hurt, because in some way, he was right.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me and run!" House yelled after him.

'How dare he treat me like this?! Go on, let him have it!' House's blood began to boil – the independence of his former employee was infuriating. Where would Chase be now, if not for him?! A quiet voice inside tried to calm him and to hint that it may be the opposite; that if Chase had never met House, he might be sitting in a warm living room with a loving wife and a couple of kids, but the voice was not strong enough so House ignored it, rose unsteadily, and stumbled into the living room.

Chase looked anxiously toward Wilson, fearing that House's resolve to continue the confrontation in the living room would wake him. He had to do something, and quickly.

"If you're going to ignore me, then get out of here! We don't need you!"

Instead of answering, Chase got up and quickly moved toward House. For an instant, it seemed like Chase was going to hit him but instead, Chase just grabbed House and pushed into the hallway. As House was recovering from the surprise attack, he found himself on the other side of a locked door.

"I'm sorry House, it's just not the right time," Chase called through the door. "Come back when you're sober. And don't even try to make a scene, because I won't open the door. If the neighbours call the police, you know what will happen."

Chase stood at the door until he heard the thud of the cane. Perhaps he had hurt House, but he really was not up to playing House's games. He had to get back to Wilson, who was having a nasty surge of vomiting when he was awake. And he was going to wake up soon.

cCc

House came back in the evening, sober, sad and with a large package of food. Chase stared at him, as if assessing his condition and what to expect from him. In another situation, House would have mocked Chase about his mother, that she trained her son in such behaviour, but he knew that he had already crossed the line and said too much. He silently looked into the living room to see how his friend was doing, and then went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and came back.

"Food's from the French restaurant. It opened recently in the city centre. It has pretty high ratings, so you should like it, " House said, apologetic.

"Thanks, but I ordered pizza." Chase didn't even look at him.

"Ok then, let's save it for tomorrow." House didn't argue, preferring not to provoke a new conflict, and without any more words sank into a chair.

The rest of the evening went in silence. Chase was tending to Wilson, and House was trying to assess the extent of the damage he'd done during his morning outburst. When he was eventually able to make eye contact with Chase, there was no anger, but there wasn't any forgiveness either. He knew that they would need to talk it out one day, but right now all his worries were about Wilson. He swore that he would not touch a bottle while Wilson was by his side and fighting to stay with him as long as he could.

* * *

><p><em>My deep gratitude to everyone who took their time to comment, it means a lot and encourages me to translate faster.<em>

_Many of you asked me not to kill Wilson, I can't do it, but there will be a lot of Wilson in the next two chapters, I hope you'll like it._


	6. Chapter 6

_My many thanks to StormyMonday and UchidaKarasu for helping me out and editing this chapter in English, I wouldn't make it without you! _And my deep gratitude to Koralina for the inspiration, editing, ideas, interesting discussion that keeps me going :)__

* * *

><p>House's words hit a nerve. Chase couldn't hide from himself anymore, and he couldn't continue living as he'd been the past few weeks. He needed time to step back and think, so he told House that Wilson was in his care and left.<p>

He decided to ride his motorbike around the city, not set on any particular destination, just enjoying the sights as an average tourist. He visited the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum, impressed by the huge building completely covered in copper. Later in the afternoon, he crossed the famous Golden Gate bridge and headed out to Sequoia National Park. Unbelievably grand, ancient trees highlighted to the frailty of existence, and how worthless and short human life was.

Amongst the peace and quiet splendour of the majestic sequoia trees, Chase was finally able to stop and ask himself questions he'd been too afraid to answer: was he really seeking out people who didn't care about him, and were they only using him for their own benefit? His relationship with Cameron was a perfect example. He let out a deep sigh. Maybe his countless adventures with women were just protection. While he used them, they couldn't use him, which meant that he was safe. In that case, he wanted to be safe another night.

Chase got up and looked up to the sky where grand treetops mingled with a bright blue sky and puffy, white clouds.

With one last look at the tranquil surroundings, he picked up his helmet and went to his motorbike. He hadn't gotten a chance to get acquainted with the city's nightlife, but he knew that it was some of the most famous in the U.S. It would have been unforgivable to completely miss the opportunity however, so he parked in the city centre, and went into a crowded nightclub nearby.

Loud music played and scantily clad women danced, some with a drink in hand, while others sat at the bar, with and without dates. Chase's face broke into a wide grin. How he had missed this! His flirting skills, combined with good looks and his Australian accent, meant that it wasn't long before he was navigating his motorbike behind a brand new, red BMW convertible toward the apartment of a new friend. She was younger than he was, and very beautiful. He had lied to her, saying that he was in town from Australia on business for a few days. That way, she wouldn't try to contact him afterwards.

The sex was hot and passionate, and should have been enough to distract Chase from his troubles, but to his dismay, he couldn't take advantage of the circumstances and relax. Just a couple of hours of sleep later, his mind was back with House and Wilson. How was House coping alone? Was Wilson feeling worse? He couldn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about them. Wilson was not his responsibility, and neither was his mother so many years ago. He didn't have to take care of either of them. When he was young, he felt obligated to do the right thing, but now that he was older, he shouldn't be feeling that guilt anymore.

Chase turned on his side and looked at the beautiful face of his sleeping companion. Normally, he would have left without saying goodbye while she slept, but now he had nowhere to go except back to old friends, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

He laid back, and after several unsuccessful attempts to sleep, began to tease the girl gently. Very soon her sleepy grumbling was replaced by satisfied moans. Chase smiled and continued until the loud cries of pleasure filled the empty spaces of the fashionable loft, and eventually the sweaty and exhausted lovers fell onto the bed. Chase finally allowed himself to forget everything and relax.

cCc

He woke up to the delicious smell of French toast and fresh coffee. The scent reminded him of why he preferred to leave early – breakfast meant that she would want to see him again, and parting would be filled with the girl's longing looks and sad sighs. Fortunately, his false story about a business trip allowed him to get away as quickly and painlessly as possible, but he still didn't want to go back to House and Wilson.

Only by the evening he had rested enough to be ready to meet with the despair and pain of approaching death yet again. He sighed, summoned his courage, and knocked.

House opened the door almost immediately. Gratitude and gladness so clearly read in the eyes of the old man made Chase feel uncomfortable. Never before could he read his ex-boss so clearly. Obviously, House was afraid that he'd finally managed to run Chase off so he wouldn't return.

"Want some dinner?" House asked.

Chase shook his head. He put his helmet away and took off his jacket. He knew that he smelled of perfume and House wouldn't miss it, but no comments followed. Apparently, the nearly two days away hadn't been easy on House, and he had taken the opportunity to evaluate the contribution of the young doctor in their lives.

"Go take care of Wilson, and I'll cook something. I'm starving."

Chase nodded, changed his clothes, washed his hands and took his post at the bedside. Nothing had changed. House was busy in the kitchen, and Wilson was lying in bed with his eyes closed. Chase didn't know whether he was sleeping on his own, or if it was drug induced. Everything was just like before, as if he hadn't left the makeshift hospital room behind.

Chase was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Wilson had woken up and was staring at him.

"Thank you, for coming back," he said in a hoarse voice.

Chase offered him a glass of water. Wilson drank, and coughed slightly. Obviously, he noticed the absence of Chase and may have guessed the reason, so the young diagnostician decided to ask the question that had been bothering him for so long. "Why do you still put up with him?"

"You really want to know the secret?" Wilson smiled weakly.

"Yeah, I do," Chase answered with a smile. He didn't want to bother the sick man, but if Wilson wasn't going to sleep anyway a little conversation couldn't hurt, and could distract him from his illness for a while.

Wilson pondered the question that had tormented him for many years. Then, summoning all his strength, he tried to give an answer with a weak, raspy voice so unlike the one he had before.

"House is a drug. We accuse him of drug abuse, but we're not much different from him. He's unique and makes our lives as unique as he is. Life is so interesting with him, that without him it's unbearably boring. You never know what to expect from him, but at the same time, you do know that it's pretty damn cool, in a demented way." The eyes of the sick man were shining. "And you get addicted so quickly," the oncologist continued. "I would say that you know you're addicted, but you go even further than that. You become a drug yourself, the same as he is. And very soon, Foreman will realize that he can't be without you."

"Thank you," Chase said politely. He regarded the comparison to House as a compliment.

"You think that's a good thing?" the oncologist asked bitterly. "It's so lonely on this road, believe me. As much as I tried to have a family, to lead an ordinary life, nothing helped. My many marriages are proof."

"House believes that you just made poor choices."

"Of course he thinks so! As if he didn't have a hand in all my divorces and - " Wilson paused, not wanting to remember Amber.

"It wasn't his fault," Chase whispered, barely audible.

"I know, but it doesn't make me feel better."

Chase regretted that he'd started this conversation with the dying man.

"It's fine." Wilson felt the discomfort of the young man. "I think about it all the time. If it weren't for House, maybe I would be dying with my family, my wife and children by my side. Or I wouldn't be dying at all. But that wouldn't have been me. Our choices are what we are, and I made mine."

Chase nodded, and stood up. "I think I've made mine as well."

He was standing over him, adjusting the IV line, when Wilson asked quietly, "Why did you choose this?"

Chase looked at him with the question in his eyes, and Wilson continued.

"Why are you still with House? You...you had everything. You left him, and married the woman you loved. Why did you and Cameron break up?" Wilson noticed how Chase tensed at the question. "Chase, I'm dying," he added softly. "You can trust me."

Chase chuckled at the irony. Cameron promised him the same thing. He shook his head, and with the words "I'll be right back," left the room, leaving behind the bewildered oncologist. Who refuses to answer a simple question from a dying man? Or maybe it was not so simple. One never knew when House's team was involved.

When he began to question House on the same subject, it turned out even more mysterious. The way he was diverting away from answering the question and trying to laugh it off made Wilson even more intrigued. His friend wasn't an open person, but never missed the opportunity to gossip about others either.

"Well now, I just can't die until I know what really happened!" he said loudly, banging his hand on the bed when House tried to change the subject again.

"I'm glad Chase and I gave you a reason to live," House replied with sarcasm.

For Wilson, knowing the truth instantly became an obsession. Once, when Chase went out for meds, Wilson decided to use the last argument, which he was saving as his last resort.

"I'm dying House, and want to know the truth."

"But that's just so unfair, my friend. You know I can't say "no" to that!" House answered dramatically.

"I'm not kidding. What are you hiding? Did he have an affair?"

House rolled his eyes.

"What could Chase possibly have done to make Cameron leave him?"

"Why do you always have to pick on Chase?" House protested. "It's so unfair!"

"Cameron would have never done something like that," Wilson replied, surprised. He continued, "It's so stupid to hide something from me. It's not like I'll get up and tell anyone."

House was silent. He wanted to share it with his friend; he wanted to tell him everything, but it wasn't his burden.

"Please, regard this as my dying wish." Wilson felt that House was ready to give up, so he just had to push a little further.

"So you want me to cancel the three hot hookers I booked for your farewell party?"

Wilson rolled his eyes – there was no party and there were no hookers. He looked at House, silently demanding and making it clear that he had no choice.

House took a deep breath. "Promise me you won't tell anyone and won't –" House paused. "–won't treat him differently."

Wilson nodded, but House knew his friend and his moral principles too well. Though the oncologist wrote that speech about euthanasia, it had nothing to do with the murder Chase committed. House decided to tell the secret, only because he knew that Wilson didn't have a lot of time left. He was just hoping that his friend wouldn't tell Chase that he knew. The Australian had been through enough.

"Do you remember we had a patient, the dictator from some god-forsaken African Republic?"

Wilson nodded slightly, remembering something, and House continued, "Chase killed him."

As soon as House finished speaking, he looked up at Wilson.

Wilson said nothing. If House was joking, it wasn't one of his best punch lines. He looked into the eyes of his friend and realized that he was dead serious. But if this wasn't a joke, then...

"So now, did I satisfy your curiosity?" House asked, and looked away.

"How?" Wilson was just trying to comprehend what he just learned.

"Switched the test results so we treated for the wrong disease." House knew that it wasn't the question Wilson really meant to ask, but decided to answer the question regardless.

Wilson was lying in silence, trying to grasp what he just heard. What could cause a person to take such a sin upon his shoulders? He knew that Chase still had faith in him, no matter what, and could only imagine how tormenting it was for a young man to do such thing.

"Why?" he asked finally. There had to be a reason.

"He felt sorry for the millions of Africans, who Dibala was about to destroy." House shook his head, clearly not sharing the motives of the Australian.

"As far as I remember, it was Cameron who didn't want to treat him, not Chase. Wasn't it like she persuaded..."

Wilson didn't even finish the question, when House interrupted angrily, "If that was her doing, she wouldn't have left him after."

What Chase did was his decision, and House wasn't going to deprive him of that. Chase was first and foremost a person, and only after that his ex-employee and Cameron's ex-husband.

"So I see." Wilson looked at his friend. "And you?"

"What about me? Did I push him to do it? No, though she thinks otherwise," House replied bitterly.

"No, I mean did you give him a hand with it?"

"No, just helped cover it up. Chase is smart, but his Catholic guilt prevented him from thinking clearly."

Wilson shook his head in disbelief. He recalled every occasion when he had to accelerate the coming of death in his patients. It was always a painful decision, but faces filled with agony and no hope for a cure were always pushing him to do it. Could he kill a person, knowing that if he would cure him, he would bring suffering and death to other people? He didn't know the answer, but he was glad that he didn't have to make that choice.

"Well, what do you think?" House asked cautiously.

"What do I think? Wow! Just wow! You raised a worthy successor!" Wilson chuckled lightly.

"Why does this have to be about me?" House asked, angry. "Don't start that 'I've poisoned Chase so that he can't even see the sanctity of a human life anymore, therefore it's easy for him to commit murder'. First of all, Cameron has said that already, and secondly, the hell he doesn't value human life. That's exactly why he did it, because he does value human life. And believe me, it didn't come easy for him. She would have known that if she hadn't been so selfish."

"Hey, calm down, I'm not going to behave like Cameron, who would have kissed you on the cheek and left a long time ago. Or do I need to go on a date with you first before you believe me?" Wilson joked to reduce the tension and soothe House. Who knew that it was still a sore subject for him? House was defending Chase, once again. It meant that even after Wilson was gone, there would still be a person in House's life that he cared about.

"All I'm saying is that knowing Chase, I'm sure he weighed all options and came to the right decision in terms of saving lives, even if it destroyed him. Don't you see the resemblance?"

"Nonsense!" House grunted, but Wilson could see the pride in his eyes. "I don't care about anybody, and I certainly don't give a rat's ass about the people and problems of some country whose name I don't even remember."

"Keep telling yourself that and maybe one day you'll actually believe it."

House glared at Wilson, but the latter just grinned. "Thank you for telling me."

"Do you feel better?" House asked with irony in his voice.

"No, but now everything makes sense."

"But please, put your pity face away when Chase comes back, okay? I don't want him knowing I sold him out."

Wilson nodded. For a short time, the conversation distracted him from his current condition, but now the pain was coming back. He looked up at his IV lines, hinting House that he wanted to sleep.

"Okay, just a second." House increased the dose of morphine. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you very much everyone who took their time to review! <em>

_I hope you like it so far, please let me know, what you think. _


	7. Chapter 7

_I never thought that there will ever be the time when I'll spend it on fan fiction, because _I'm a mother of three kids, and in case you don't know it's a full time job :)_ But here I am, and more than anyone I want to thank for it my wonderful editors: Koralina, StormyMonday and UchidaKarasu!_

* * *

><p>With every passing day, Wilson was getting worse. By the end of the next week, he was nearly unable to talk, and only asked to have the dose of morphine increased. House and Chase didn't argue, knowing that nothing more could be done to help him.<p>

House didn't leave his friend's bedside. He still hoped that he could dispel the gloomy atmosphere with jokes and light conversation. Wilson appreciated his efforts, but had no more strength to reciprocate. He could only smile back slightly, and close his eyes almost immediately.

While House was trying to defuse the situation, Chase was concerned about another matter. It was no longer the routine killing him, or thoughts about his troubled childhood, but more about how to send Wilson on his final journey. Where they were going to bury Wilson? Would his friends and relatives come to to say goodbye? And what about House? What if he wanted to be at the funeral? Chase knew the stubbornness of his teacher, and he knew that nothing would stop him if he wanted to be there, even the possibility of another prison term.

Chase was distracted from his thoughts by House's dry voice. "He wants to talk to you."

Chase looked up at him. Recently, he had been trying to keep his presence in the living room to a minimum, knowing that they didn't have much time left, and House wanted to spend as much of it with his friend as possible. A third wheel was definitely unwanted. However, Chase didn't argue, and silently walked into the living room.

Wilson was lying with his eyes closed, but Chase could tell that he wasn't sleeping because his features were too tense. Chase didn't indicate his presence and quietly sat down, waiting for Wilson to acknowledge him. Thirty minutes later, Wilson was still laying there, while Chase continued to sit silently nearby, House watching from the doorway.

Finally, House got tired of waiting and left. As if sensing House's departure, Wilson opened his eyes. Maybe this was what he had been waiting for, though Chase could not tell for sure. If so, it meant that Wilson didn't want House to hear what he had to say, and whatever it was couldn't be good. There was almost nothing in the oncologist's life that House didn't know.

"It's not your first time seeing someone fade away and die. You were there when Amber... " Wilson didn't finish, and swallowed painfully.

Chase nodded, letting him know that he didn't need Wilson to continue. He remembered that tragic day when they had found her, only to lose her again. He waited for Wilson to explain what he was trying to say, but the oncologist just continued to stare at him, and after some time, it hit Chase. It was not about the loss of a loved one, and not of death itself – it was about what Wilson wanted Chase to do for him now.

"No!" Chase protested, holding up a hand. "No! Please don't make me do that!"

Tears streamed down Wilson's face. "I can't take it any more."

Chase was silent. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do that to House. He would never forgive him for taking his friend's life before the cancer did.

"I can ask ... House," Wilson said, barely audible. "He'll give in eventually. He never could say 'no' to me... but can you imagine what it would be like for him to live with it?

Chase shook his head. Wilson had just asked him to end his suffering, so he would not have to torment House with the same pleading desire. Although he understood the reasons that led to this request, it didn't make it any easier. This was why doctors shouldn't treat their friends. Yes, he often ignored that rule, but this was different.

"Tell me the code ... I'll do it myself." Wilson was barely able to speak, but there was a frightening determination in his eyes.

Obviously the pain was unbearable, and Chase was the only person Wilson could ask. But he didn't want to be in this position, and he just couldn't make that choice. He stood up abruptly and ran out of the room, nearly knocking House down, who was coming into the room at that moment.

By Chase's and Wilson's reactions, it was obvious to House the conversation wasn't easy on either one of them. He wasn't going to ask his friend about it, because it was clear that he was depressed enough already. Chase was a different matter, though. Something was tormenting the only people who chose to stay with him, and for some reason, they didn't want his help.

The young doctor sat staring into space, nervously fiddling with the phone. For a moment it seemed to House that Chase was in silent prayer, but he didn't get the chance to confirm it, because Chase turned to look at him. House never understood how the Australian knew when he was watching him, as if some sixth sense warned him of House's approach.

"What happened?" House asked gently, and then, feeling that he sounded too serious, added, "Wilson left you his fortune, and your decency prevents you from accepting it?"

Chase gave him a sad smile. It was so like House to make a joke out of everything.

"When I chose this stupid profession, I thought I would be helping people, not watching them suffer and die."

'As they beg for death.' That was what he really wanted to say, but he didn't. House had suffered enough already.

"I could be wrong, but it seems to me that a lot of people come out alive thanks to you, so there is no reason to sit here and drown in self-pity." House looked at him. Of all his ducklings, Chase was the one who was always ready to accept that sometimes patients died. So the question was, what had changed?

"And besides, I'm the one who's afraid to watch his friend die, not you. So get yourself together and act as a doctor, not a pussy!" House paused, sighing before asking the question that really troubled him. "What did he say?"

Chase looked up at him but said nothing. Did House really have no idea what Wilson was asking? Or maybe he just wanted to have some ignorance with his bliss. Which meant that from the five stages, House was still on the first one – denial. Chase was not going to deprive him of his illusions.

"He mentioned Amber."

"And that made you so upset?"

Chase was silent, not knowing how to answer. A fantasy played out in his mind. He was telling House the truth and asking the older man for his blessing to kill his friend, because without that he couldn't do it. But when he made eye contact with the old diagnostician, he realized that this fantasy would remain just that. Never before had his ex-boss looked at him so openly and naïvely. He did not want to know the truth, as did the majority of his patient's relatives. As House said, it was his job as a doctor to reassure the patient's family, while family and friends remained at the patient's bedside.

His teacher was not an idiot, and in the end would recognize that Wilson was entitled to end his suffering. And if not, Chase was there to take care of them both and do all the dirty work himself, allowing House to remain ignorant. Perhaps it was that trust and willingness with which House let him be a doctor, which left House with the role of a friend ... maybe that was that blessing that Chase was waiting for. Maybe through that, House was saying 'Come on, my friend, do what you must, but leave me out of it.' This thought brought Chase relief. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I'm just tired; it'll go away," he said, barely above whisper.

Chase thought that having his answer, House would turn and leave, but instead he came closer, putting a hand on Chase's shoulder and squeezing lightly, as if thanking Chase for sparing him the truth. On the other hand, for all Chase knew, it could have just been a deception to keep Chase functioning, and there was no underlying meaning to it. But Chase desperately wanted to read more into it, and believe that he had received House's approval.

cCc

Chase had made a decision to help Wilson, but it was still a long road from deciding something to actually doing it. He continued to stall for time, convincing himself that Wilson could still get better, and that if he hurried he could make the mistake of taking away precious time Wilson and House had left. As a result, Chase approached Wilson only when he was sure that Wilson was fast asleep, and could not continue the conversation. He tried to ignore the groans of the sick man, and didn't want to think that his indecision was only causing unnecessary pain. As much as he wanted to hide, or better yet leave, he couldn't shake off all the responsibilities of caring for the dying man.

And then one day, Chase's worst fear came true. Wilson grabbed his hand and stared into the frightened eyes of the Australian. Chase thought he knew what he was going to say, that he was ready for anything no matter how unpleasant it may be, but the oncologist surprised him.

"You killed a man ... I know."

Wilson's tone did not leave even the possibility for disputes, and Chase didn't have to think twice to know who told him.

"You've already killed once. Why don't you want to help me?"

Wilson knew that he was being unfair, but it didn't worry him at all. He knew that the man before him could help him stop his suffering, once and for all.

"I do want to help you! But you're asking ..."

"Just tell me the code ..." Wilson made slight nod to the morphine button. He saw that the young doctor was ready to give in, but if it would be easier for Chase to live with fact that he only told him the code, Wilson was ready to give him that. Eventually, Wilson would have his way, and it didn't matter how he got it.

"In that case, I can do it myself as well." Chase smiled bitterly. He was definitely House's successor, unwilling to hide behind the excuse that the figures could not kill anyone.

"Then do it."

"House ..."

"It's not about House ... and it's not about you ... I can't take it any more..." There was so much pain in Wilson's voice that Chase shuddered.

More than anything, he wanted to run away, as far away as possible, but he didn't. This was a profession he chose for himself. Helping people by deeds, not words and prayers, as he once said. It was time.

"Please ..."

Chase looked into Wilson's eyes. The oncologist was right – it wasn't about him, or about House.

"328," Chase said, barely audible, and for the first time in a long time he felt tears stream down his cheeks. "Do you want me to do this now?"

Wilson shook his head, repeating the numbers to himself so he would not forget when he needed it. He felt shame for what he'd done to Chase, the way he manipulated him, but for once in his life he wanted to put his own interests above others.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Feedback is highly appreciated._


End file.
